Short Stories
by AlxM
Summary: A series of short stories that are mostly focused on the Winchester brothers and their relationship, but will also feature them with other awesome characters. NOW: And so you seize the moment, with your one and only family, and your everything. Set after season eight finale.
1. Fear Of Thunder

_A series of drabbles varying from Weechesters to Adult!Winchesters filled with sweet, humorous, sad and adorable moments between the characters. H/C, angst, drama, family, friendship, mostly focused on the Winchester brothers but will also feature other awesome characters such as Bobby, Castiel, John, Mary, Gabriel._

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**Drabble # 1**: Fear Of Thunder

Six-year-old Sammy cringed at the loud raging thunder that roared outside of their motel room, raindrops pitter-pattering on the roof of their building. He was always scared of thunder, because they were really loud and they made his little heart beat faster.

"Dean?" Sammy squeaked out shakily. Dean was his big brother, and he'd protect him because he said it was his job, and once he'd be close enough with his big brother he'd feel safe and he won't be afraid no more because he knew Dean wouldn't let anything hurt him.

"Yeah Sammy?" Dean responded tiredly, his voice thick with sleep and breathy in slight exasperation.

"Can I sleep with you tonight?" Sammy asked hopefully even though he knew Dean wouldn't refuse.

Silence before Dean sighed and lifted his covers as an invitation, and in a heartbeat he had his little brother lying beside him and hugging him, his floppy-haired head on his chest, listening to the thump-thump and letting it lull him to slumber.

"You know, you don't really have to ask." Dean said softly.

Sam nodded, and then yawned widely, feeling sleepy already. "G'night De."

"G'night Sammy."

Sam felt no fear from the thunder anymore, and he let the lullaby of his big brother's steady heartbeat take him to sleep.

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Hey guys! So lately I've been suffering a lot from writer's block and that's why I get a bit rusty when I start writing again, which is why I've decided to make my own series of drabbles, because I think it might help me in those times. :) I hope you enjoy it.


	2. Prayers Of Gratitude

**Drabble # 2**: Prayers Of Gratitude

Ever since he had learned about Dean's deal, he had prayed intensely, more and more, each prayer coming from his aching heart. Even after Dean died and went to hell, he hadn't stopped and given up like most people would have, he had kept asking for his brother back.

And then finally in the end, he did get him back.

Sam jerked up on his bed and his eyes immediately settled on the figure under the covers, sleeping with his head turned towards him while the rest of his body laid on his stomach. He swallowed and released a sigh of relief, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes as he closed them, head turned towards the sky.

"Thank you so much God." Sam whispered softy.

He thanked Him every day for his big brother.

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I'm sorry if you don't believe in God, I completely respect your beliefs, but no hate reviews please.

So this sweet little idea was just stuck in my head and all day and I've finally decided to write it down, and what better place than my little series of drabbles. :) And I also suppose I could relate to this in a way too though. Thank you so much for the reviews in the previous chapter. You guys rock! :)


	3. Fevers

**Drabble # 3**: Fevers

Sam sniffed and coughed miserably, his cheeks flushed red with fever as heat radiated off of his body in waves. His head was aching terribly as if someone was pounding a hammer against his skull, and so was his itchy throat. He laid, curled up in some dirty motel bed, burying his face into the pillow as unshed tears filled his burning eyes, shifting his body slightly in discomfort. "De," He whimpered, for a minute just forgetting his Winchester pride and becoming the little boy Dean had taken care of all those years ago.

"Hey, it's okay Sammy, I'm here now." Dean soothed softly as he rushed back to him with a few pills and a bottle of water, putting them down on the nightstand and helping his baby brother up, holding his back with one arm while using the other to take them again. It was an odd position but he didn't mind, nothing compared to the misery Sammy must've been going through. He put the pills in his hand, waiting for him to put them in his mouth, and then washing it down with water down his brother's throat.

He slid behind him so that Sam could lay his head against his chest. A sick Sammy was a clingy Sammy.

Sam shifted again, trying to find a comfy position, until he found one; His shoulder against Dean's chest, his head tucked under his chin.

"G'night, Sammy."


	4. Birthdays

**Drabble # 4**: Birthday

Dean sat on the edge of his bed, looking down on the floor and trying hard not to breakdown. Besides, it's no big deal, right? It's just a stupid birthday anyway and he'll just treat it like any other boring day. He glanced over at his little brother's sleeping form beside him.

A half an hour of just staring quietly at the floor. He startled when he heard someone scream behind him excitedly, a voice that belonged to no one other than his baby brother.

"Happy biwthday, De!" Sammy screamed joyfully, his wide grin lighting up the whole room and maybe even his day. He hurriedly went back and for a second, Dean was upset and disappointed once again thinking that was all he had for him. He didn't want stupid wishes, he just wanted to know that his family cared about the day he was born, that they loved him. He just wanted his Dad to be here.

But then Sammy came back, with his favorite car toy clumsily wrapped with a week old newspaper, and a hand-made card in which he misspelt most of the words, probably trying to spell them by the sounds of the word.

_Daer De. U r teh best big broder ever! I love u so so much. Hapy birday!_

A huge smile slowly graced his lips.

Because it was the greatest gift he could ever ask for. Their Dad may not care much about his birthday, but Sammy did.

And suddenly, right then and there, that was all that mattered to him.


	5. Stomach Bugs

**Drabble # 5**: Stomach Bugs

Sharp pain shot across Sam's gut, causing him to release a tiny whimper from his lips as he held his middle in excruciating pain. He felt a sudden twist and flip inside his stomach and he lurched forward to throw up his dinner.

He vomited for another good half an hour, and he rested his forehead against the bowl of the toilet, sobbing miserably, not because his intestines were burning as if they were on fire.

Because Dean was dead, in hell, burning worse than his abdomen was, being tortured in ways he can't even -

"Sammy?"

Sam stilled at the voice, his gut-wrenching sobs silenced completely.

He felt a cool hand on his warm forehead, and he lifted his head up to see the owner of it.

"Sammy, you're sick. Why didn't you tell me? And why are you crying?" There crouched Dean, right beside him, alive and whole, talking to him in his soft, big brotherly voice.

"You're - you're alive?" Sam whimpered softly, gazing at him with wide, tearful eyes.

Dean looked confused for a minute, but then he gave him a sad smile. "Hey, I'm back now, Sammy. You're just sick, that's all."

Dean barely had time to steady himself before he had an armful of his giant baby brother, who was burying his face into his already damp shoulder.

He just sighed softly and pulled him closer.

It wasn't really the first time.


	6. A Friend In Need

_Hey guys! I decided to make this a series of drabbles and short stories (like, about 500 to 1000 words) because sometimes they just turn out to be longer than a drabble should be, and I just can't help it but want to make them longer and I really don't like holding back. BTW, I'm not sure if I can update any of my stories for a two weeks since I'm off on a vacation. I'm really sorry, I know I'm so slow on updating all my stories these past months but I'm still suffering from a writer's block. I don't know HOW to start any of my stories and it's so frustrating!_

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**Short Story # 1**: A Friend In Need

It started off as another fight, something that's becoming more and more usual between them as days passed. Angry and hurtful words were thrown around, words none of them meant and would undoubtedly regret later but were too blinded by rage to care about the damage they were causing to one another.

And it ended with harsh panting and a hard slamming of the door, hard enough to rattle the thin and feeble walls of the motel room.

Sam plopped down on the edge of his bed, wiping both hands down his face wearily. His betrayal had caused a large rift between him and his older brother, had broken down their — what they both stealthily used to hope was incredibly indestructible — relationship into a thousand pieces, mixed in together with pieces of Dean's shattered trust in him, his belief in him.

He rubbed at his nose, tears pooling around his eyes. He sucked in a deep breath and trapped his bottom trembling lip between his teeth to keep his pitiful noises at bay.

He turned his head towards the sky, parting his lips to send a prayer to Castiel, because he could really use a friend here. He would've called Bobby for that but it was night, and he didn't want to disturb him.

But then he stopped in hesitation.

He didn't know when he had started considering Castiel as his friend, especially since he wasn't sure if the Angel felt the same for him.

An insecure part of him knew — that an Angel of the Lord would never want to befriend him, especially because of the evil that was constantly running through his veins Twenty-four-seven. It knew that Castiel wasn't — would _never_ be — Sam's friend, only Dean's. Hell, he probably even hated him, and the only reason the heavenly being even tolerated him was because he was Dean's younger brother. And as far as he knew, Castiel only answered Dean's prayers, not his — never his.

But maybe — just maybe — it wouldn't hurt to try.

"Castiel?" He called out feebly. "I, uh—" He wet his lips, blowing out a soft sigh. "I know I'm — I'm not your most favorable person in the world, but — but I uh — " He gulped down the growing lump in his throat as he recalled Dean's words, laughing shakily as more tears sprung to his eyes. "I-I could really use a friend here, ya know?" He whispered shakily, no longer able to stop them from being released, ducking his head down and biting his trembling lip.

He held his breath, waiting for the familiar and soft rustling of fluttering wings that alerted the Angel's arrival, searching the whole room hopefully as he looked around — hoping silently that he's not as lonely as he really felt he is.

He huffed out a hollow, mirthless laugh as he looked down again, shaking his head, because...

_Because_ who was he kidding?

The 'boy with the _demon_ blood' — had actually thought an _Angel_ would be his friend.

Maybe he really was alone

He scrubbed at his eyes furiously, because he didn't deserve that, he didn't deserve to feel sorry for himself, he didn't —

"Sam?"

He looked up instantly and jumped upright, standing stiffly and staring wide-eyed at the figure in front of him.

"I believe you required my assistance?"


	7. Ah, brotherly love

_**Set**: Somewhere in Season 7, before 7.17._

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"It's the right thing, Sammy. Come on, you know that, don't you?"

Sam stares indecisively at the .45 gun in his trembling hands, sitting against the bath tub of their current motel room.

"De— "

Dean gazes down sadly at his brother, dropping down to kneel in front of him. He places a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly. He locks his wet eyes with his brother's, smiling softly, a reassurance shining in his green irises. He leans in, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and embracing his younger brother one last time as he presses his lips against his ear and whispers softly, "It's the only way you'll be at peace."

Dean sits back on his feet, a firm hand still situated on his brother's shoulder.

Sam swallows shakily, eyes wide and doey as he glances down at the gun again, then looks back up at his big brother — who was advising him to commit suicide to find emancipation from Lucifer.

Sam nods, a jerky — adding in his wet-puppy-eyes — nod. "O-Okay." He nods again, sniffing silently.

"Sammy?" It's the same voice — Dean's — except it was thick from sleep and it sounds further away than before. He looks up to find another Dean standing in the doorway, rubbing at his eyes. "Sammy, what are y — " He trails off as his eyes drift to his hand, catching a glint of silver there.

Sam exchanges his gaze between the two Deans in confusion and terror. "D-Dean?" His voice sounds tiny, scared, like the little kid from all those years ago, whimpering his name in the cold darkness of the motel room after he had a nightmare.

The Dean from the doorway rushes towards him, and within seconds, the gun is thrown across the room and on the floor at the other side.

"Ah, fun's over, I guess." The fake Dean transforms into Lucifer. "You totally fell for it, Sammy!" He exclaims, grinning widely. "Big brother's your weakness, isn't he? Little Sammy will listen to everything he'll say and believe in it like a gospel, 'cause he's always right, yeah? I'll keep that in mind." He smiles sweetly as he stands up and leans against the wall.

He feels two hands grab his shoulders in a firm grip and he flinches. "Sammy! Look at me! He's not real!"

Suddenly, it all felt too much, what he was about to do just now. He was going to kill himself, let Dean down and leave him all alone in this world, leave him to pick up the pieces he left behind, leave him to bury his corpse, leave him to—

"S'okay, Sammy, s'okay. I gotcha."

He's vaguely aware of someone sobbing and making whimpering sounds, but it took a few seconds to realize it was actually himself. He nestles his face deeper into his big brother's shoulder, Dean's shirt steadily growing damp.

"Ah, brotherly love." Lucifer sighs and shakes his head.


	8. Understand

_Thank you so much for all your reviews and favs/alerts!I know I don't reply, but you guys have no idea how much I appreciate your support._

_This one's set after 2x22_.

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Dean lowers himself down to sit on the edge of his younger sibling's bed, whose mouth hung slightly open in his sleep, lying on his stomach and snoring softly, his face turned towards Dean's bed. He looks so relaxed and peaceful, free of any tension, especially without a nightmare plaguing his dreams. Not like when he was dead, no.

Because then, his body was as cold as snow, his face was as pale as death, his chest was so still, his whole body was. He never leant into his touch then, like he always did in his sleep.

Dean places a light hand on his cheek, stroking it gently. Sam, as expected, instinctively presses into his big brother's palm. His lips break out into a small smile, fondness filling his soft eyes as he gazes at the kid. He brushes his hair away from his face, leaving his hand on his head.

Now he's warm, just like he should be. His skin tone is his normal, usual tan color. His chest rises and falls steadily, and he keeps changing his position every few minutes.

"You understand why I did it, don't you Sammy?" He whispers softly to his oblivious brother, his eyes wet.

As if in response, he turns over and curls into Dean's side, clutching loosely at the side of his shirt.


	9. Tired

_I'm very thrilled with the responses to this. Thank you all so much! :) I'm so sorry for the slow updates. OMG! I'm so sick of this stupid writer's block and I just wanna fucking (excuse my language) write something! I hate, hate, hate my life right now. I can't seem to be inspired by anything, all the great songs I find, and they don't do shit, and I can't write anything enthusiastically like I used to before. This is what came out of my aimless writing. Hope yoi enjoy it._

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You're tired.

So tired of all the fake smiles and false laughs, of acting like you're not dying inside every single day, as if you're having a great time with your brother and everything's normal and that Dean won't be going to Hell in the next three weeks. You're tired of pretending to be fine, that everything's alright, especially when it's not.

Every second that ticks by kills you inside more and more, tears away part of you each day, knowing that he's getting a bit more closer to that dreadful day where Dean will be snatched away from you from by hungry hell-hounds that are itching to get their claws into your brother's skin, when his deal will come to due and he'll be gone. _Dead_.

And you can't pretend anymore.

It's becoming too hard.

So what if your loud laughs richochetting off the thin walls of the motel room suddenly dissolve into hard, gasping sobs? So what if your tears of laughing so hard suddenly turn into crying ones? So what if your knees suddenly buckle and you fall down in the middle of the room, unable to hold yourself up and keep yourself together?

So what if all of this happens under your brother's shocked and worried gaze.

"I can't..._I can'tIcan'tIcan't_." You whisper to yourself, over and over, rocking back and forth on your knees and shaking your head as your whole body trembles and hunches over, crying hard while your bangs hide your wet mess of a face.

Somewhere along all of this, you sense someone coming towards you, and feel him hold you tightly, your forehead against his chest as you keep shaking your head and whispering.

"C-can't ... do this 'nymore," You sob, your voice breaking. "_Please_."

Dean doesn't say anything, just holds you wordlessly through it all like he's done a thousand times before when you were both young, and you simply let him.

Sure, tomorrow you both might laugh and crack jokes about it, but for now, you just don't care.

You're too tired.


	10. Missed You

**Set**: Season 5, Episode 4

**Author's Note**: Just a little something to try and kill my writer's block and feed my cravings for writing (because I still can't write). So this was inspired by a story from authoressnebula. I don't remember the exact story, but I loved it! If anyone knows it, can you tell me in the reviews so that other people can know too? I'm so sorry for the delays in my other story updates! As you guys know, my writer's block is still hanging over my head. But I just want to thank you guys for your support and feedback! And another thank you to AlElizabeth, who has been a great help through my writer's block.

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"Get out of the car."

"Dean . . . " Sam whispers, staring up at him through the passenger window.

"Get out." Dean says, his voice impassive and void of emotion, his face set in stone.

Sam slowly climbs out of the car, hesitance in his movements, his eyes wary and slightly scared. "Dean, what's wrong? I-I thought we were . . . " He trails off, realization dawning on him, his gut clenches painfully and the same despair that's been haunting his sleep - of never going to be able to see his brother because he hates him - overcame him. He swallows hard as he ducks his head down, walking over to the car to grab his duffel bag.

When he felt a hand grab his arm.

And in one swift motion, he was pulled into a tight embrace, arms wrapping around his back, cheek leaning against his, chin against his shirt, a nose nestled in his shoulder, inhaling that scent of the ridiculously-smelling cologne of his.

"Missed you, Sammy." Dean whispers quietly in his ear.

Sam swallows thickly again and nods against his shoulder. "Me too."


	11. Like Shooting Stars

**Like Shooting Stars**

Watch the angels fall from the sky, blazing with fire as they crashed somewhere off into sea or land. Like shooting stars. It would've been a beautiful sight if not frightening.

You rotate your head towards your apprehensive baby brother; the brother who loved you so much that he was readily willing to give up his life just so he wouldn't make the same mistake of letting you down; the brother who - if you didn't have reached there on time - would've been dead forever, _gone_.

You would've lost him. Never have seen him again.

And the realization of that fact hits you so hard that you stop breathing for a moment.

Just a few more seconds late; and Sam wouldn't have even been sitting right next to you, so closely; breathing, alive, warm.

And that thought terrifies you more than the heavenly-meteors raining down from the sky.

And so you seize the moment, with your one and only family, and your everything.

"C'mere," You whisper softly as you slowly lift an arm, and Sam looks at you, stares at you for a long time with his huge and scared doey eyes.

And within a minute, your arms are full of your gigantic little brother, his face hiding into your chest while his hands clutched at your jacket, his breaths shuddery against the fabric; and you settle your chin on top of the sweaty, brown mop of hair.

And you stare at the sky.

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**Author's Note**: Aaaaaah! That moment. Oh, you guys know which one I'm talking about. Yeah, that scene. Only the best freaking broment in this entire history of broments! *sob* I'm so darn happy we got to see that moment, but I'm also dying from all the feels. It was just so beautiful and emotional and just...asddgfgjhjlk. MY LIFE IS COMPLETE. I CAN DIE HAPPY!

Hope you liked this little drabble. OH, and can we just pretend for this story that there wasn't anything seriously wrong with Sammy? :)

I would love to hear your rants about the broment or the episode in the comments.

Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed/favorited/alerted or simply read this story. You're awesome!


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